And all that’s bought and sold.—Mary Howitt.
On her arrival at Richmond, Mrs. Clifton engaged for herself and Catherine two rooms—a chamber with two beds, and a neat adjoining parlor—in a quiet, retired boardinghouse.
Miss Clifton was the guest of Mrs. Cabell, in the most fashionable quarter of the city. Captain Clifton had not yet arrived, but was daily expected. Richmond was in the commencement of the fashionable season, and was already quite full of gay company. Every evening witnessed some one or two grand balls, or great private parties. The theatres and the concert rooms were in full operation. But no faint echo of all these various forms of revelry came to the sequestered neighborhood that Mrs. Clifton had chosen for her retreat. No news of the fashionable world reached her, except constant bulletins of Mrs. Georgia Clifton’s progress through society. She was one of those city celebrities whose sayings and doings are the exciting topic of all classes. Where she went, and what she wore, and when she rode out. Whom she cut directly, whom she smiled upon, whom she slighted, and whom she received, were the most interesting subjects of discussion. The Belle of the Rappahannock, the Dark Ladye, the Gipsy Beauty, were some of the many names she had won. All these matters were freely and lightly commented upon in Mrs. Clifton’s presence, by gentlemen boarders, who knew nothing whatever of that lady’s connexion with the reigning toast of Richmond. Mrs. Clifton rested two days before calling upon Mrs. Cabell and her family. Miss Clifton expressed almost as much surprise as pleasure at the sight of her aunt, but forbore to question her motive in coming so suddenly to the city. Perhaps Carolyn had heard a rumor of Major Clifton’s preferment and expected arrival, and for that reason was silent. Mrs. Clifton never named the subject during her informal call. At taking leave she left her address, and informed her niece that Kate Kavanagh was in town with her. Carolyn expressed much pleasure at hearing this, and promised to call very soon. The very next day Mrs. Cabell came in her carriage, and invited and urged Mrs. Clifton and her protégé to return with her, and make her house their home during their sojourn in Richmond. After some hesitation and reflection, Mrs. Clifton accepted the invitation, and promised to go over the next day. The next morning, therefore, Mrs. Cabell sent her carriage to convey Mrs. Clifton and Catherine. They were received by Mrs. Cabell with great politeness and empressement, and conducted by that lady herself into two large and luxuriously furnished chambers, connected with each other, where they found a neat, pretty mulatto girl, ready to wait upon them—for Mrs. Cabell, with all her hard worldliness, was truly kind and hospitable.
The evening of the succeeding day was the appointed time for the Governor’s first reception. Mrs. Cabell and her family were going, of course. And Mrs. Clifton resolved to go—not for her own sake, but for that of Catherine, whom she had determined should see all that was to be seen during her stay in the metropolis. A somewhat haughty surprise elevated the handsome black eyebrows of Mrs. Cabell, when she found that Mrs. Clifton intended to take her demoiselle du compagnie, but she was far too well bred to express it in any other manner. And as for Mrs. Clifton, she always did whatever she thought proper to do, in the coolest, calmest, most matter-of-course manner, without the slightest regard to other people’s weaknesses and follies. You know, besides, that she was a thorough republican. And Mrs. Cabell remembered that the public reception at the gubernatorial mansion was a sort of omnium gatherum, where all who behaved themselves might come—from the oldest Major-General of the army to the shoemaker who made his boots. And again, no one in Richmond knew who the girl really was. All these things had Mrs. Cabell to recall to mind before she could reconcile herself to the idea of Kate’s being of the party.
When the night and the hour arrived, several gentlemen, beaux of the Misses Cabell, came to escort the ladies. Major Cabell attended his cousin Carolyn and one of his sisters. Judge Cabell took charge of his wife and eldest daughter. Mrs. Clifton had hoped that her son would have reached the city in time to have escorted herself and Catherine. When they were all assembled in the parlor, Major Cabell brought a gentleman up to Mrs. Clifton, whom he presented as Colonel Conyers, of the army, leaving to Mrs. Clifton the responsibility of presenting the aristocrat to the plebeian Kate. Mrs. Clifton did it at once, in the most natural way in the world. And the gallant Colonel, after a few compliments, hoped to have the honor of waiting upon Mrs. Clifton and her “lovely charge” to the Mansion-House. Mrs. Clifton gratefully accepted his services—and soon after, they entered the carriage, and were driven off. This party reached their destination a full half hour before Mrs. Cabell and family, and other ultra fashionables, who fancied that it was vulgar to go early, and imagined that their ton depended upon late hours and other observances. Mrs. Clifton was very plainly dressed, in a black satin with a lace scarf—Catherine very simply, in a white crape, with a scarlet geranium twined in her black hair. A moment in the cloak-room sufficed to re-arrange their simple toilet. They were then conducted into the saloon. This apartment was fitted up in a somewhat different style to those of the present day. It was illuminated by three large hanging chandeliers, holding innumerable wax candles; and warmed by two enormous coal fires, one at each extremity. It was already well filled with a miscellaneous company. After their presentation to the Governor, Colonel Conyers inquired whether they chose to join the promenade or to take seats. Mrs. Clifton preferred the latter, and their polite escort conducted them to a side sofa, from which they could note the entrance of fresh guests, and watch the great circle of promenaders going round and round in one long elliptic, three or four persons deep, in the most stupid, treadmill monotony conceivable. Very much interested and amused was our simple country girl, in taking observations of the various characters passing in review before them. Here would be a dowager of sixty, in rouge, ringlets, bare arms and a gossamer dress; here a girl of seventeen, in a black, stiff brocade and heavy head-dress. Here comes a stately, broad-chested, senatorial-looking man—he looks the incumbent of some high, official place—he is the master tailor, of —— street. Here comes a red-headed, red-faced, sharp-featured little man, very quick and impatient in his motions, and very high in his voice—he looks like an auctioneer or a constable—he is the great General ——, of the United States Army. Here is a small, dowdy woman, all fuss and flowers, like a barn-house actress—she is the wife of the late Governor ——. This is a queenly woman! tall, stately, dignified, with a fine, royal countenance. Pooh! Don’t ask who she is—she is the “leading lady” at the city theatre—plays in all the heavy tragedies, but is not even a star. There, apart, watching and reflecting upon the scene, stands a grave-looking individual, in a closely-fitting black suit, and closely-cropped black hair, and set, sallow, saturnine face, looking like an undertaker at a funeral—doubtless some famous preacher—though so miserable a messenger of the glad tidings cannot be imagined. Preacher, indeed! Why, he is H——, the low comedian, and he wears his hair cropped that way by reason of the many different sorts of wigs he has to wear in his different impersonations. To-night, he happens to be off the boards, and enjoys the recreation of sadness and gravity. Ah! here is a debonnair gentleman! all life! a laugh and jest, or a smile and a bow for every one. Is he a French dancing-master? No—he is the Rev. Mr. ——, the most popular preacher of the day. Yet these were not all. There was a small proportion of really well-dressed and dignified women and stately, honorable men.
“How do you like the scene, Catherine?” asked Mrs. Clifton.
Kate laughed—then replied—
“I am somewhat disappointed, but very much more diverted! It seems to me so strange that people should look, dress and behave so very inappropriately! and that they could possibly be so very ill-dressed and dowdy at such a great expense. I expected something very recherché and elegant in the saloon of the Governor’s mansion. But ‘motley is the only wear!’”
The officer laughed, gayly, and then observed—
“Why? Why did you look for something, or rather, for everything recherché and elegant in this crowd? Because you see in the newspaper reports of such gatherings, such phrases as ‘the beautiful Miss A——?’—by the way, there she is—the young lady with the red hair, milk-white complexion and little eyes; or ‘the elegant Mrs. B——?’ ‘the graceful Mrs. C——?’ etc., etc., etc., with revised and improved accounts of their costume, appearance, manners, etc.? Miss Kavanagh, when you have stayed in the city longer, you will know that when a newspaper reporter and letter writer speaks of that dowdy, but wealthy little woman, in the flimsy, scarlet dress, as ‘the beautiful, elegant, and accomplished Mrs. G——,’ and tells of ‘the immense (imaginary) sensation’ she made—he, the reporter, is morally certain of an invitation to her private parties.”